Where The Sidewalk Ends

Sad to say, I missed out on the children's poetry by Shel Silverstein--I was born too early.

By the time Where the Sidewalk Ends, his first poetry collection, was published, I was almost out of my teens.

Too old for such things.

That was in 1974. And I knew all about Silverstein back then. Don't get that wrong. I was a big fan. Had been following him for years. Knew the details of his life.

I knew of his career as an illustrator and contributor for Playboy. Knew he was a friend of Hef's. That he partied at the Playboy mansion.

Actually, knew one of his many girlfriends. She was friends with my wife. 

I knew him as a graduate of Roosevelt High School. Yes, he was a Rough Rider. Class of 1948. He wrote for the school newspaper.

So he was truly one of Chicago's own, even if he had homes all over the country.

But mostly I knew him as a songwriter. He wrote dozens of songs, including some of my favorites. Like...Sylvia's Mother and Cover of the Rollings Stone and my all-time all time: A Boy Named Sue.

Shel ‘n Johnny…

That's the one, sung by Johnny Cash, about the father who names his son Sue just before, he, the father, deserts the kid. 

So the kid grows up having to fend for himself, fighting off the bullies who harass him for having a girl's name. As a grown man, the son meets his father and they have a brutal fist fight, ending with the son on top. And just before he kills his father, the father says...

Now you just fought one heck of a fight
And I know you hate me, and you got the right to kill me now
And I wouldn't blame you if you do
But you ought to thank me, before I die
For the gravel in ya gut and the spit in ya eye
'Cause I'm the son of a bitch that named you Sue...

And the son forgives the dad and spares his life meaning it has happy ending, more or less.

God, I love that song. Never tire of it. Just re-reading those lines makes me smile, ironically, at the ingenious way Silverstein takes the shitty head games fathers can play on their sons and turns them into a funny little song that almost hides its deeper meaning.

So, yeah, I know all about Shel Silverstein--mourned when he died in 1999. He’s buried in Westlawn Cemetery out in Norridge, by the way. As is Leonard Chess and Gene Siskel and Jack Ruby. Went out there once and walked among the graves. 

So given all that, you’d think I’d have read Shel’s children's poetry? But, no, just too old. 

Until…

I was walking south on Damen, when I noticed a poem painted on the glass of Time and a half Books, a new book store.

It's called Listen to the Mustn'ts and it reads...

Listen to Mustn'ts, child, listen to the Don'ts.
Listen to the Shouldn'ts, the Impossibles, the Won'ts.
Listen to the Never Haves, then listen close to me.
      Anything can happen, child, Anything can be.

Standing there on that sidewalk, reading those lines, well, it just gave me chills. 

So I walked into the store and asked the proprietor--do you have the book with the poem that’s on the window? 

And she brought out a copy of Where The Sidewalk Ends and I bought it there and then and that's how I finally became a reader of Shel Silverstein's poetry for children.

Man, I love those poems. Funny and sweet and whimsical and wise and, sometimes, wise ass. 

Great poems. Expanding my love for Shel Silverstein even more. How can one man be so talented?

I'm gonna take that book of poems to Cali, when I visit my family. And I'm gonna read them to my four-year-old granddaughter. She's the perfect age to appreciate them.

And I'm gonna tell her all about A Boy Named Sue. And maybe I'll play it for her. Though I'm not sure if she's gonna like it. One day maybe, but not right now. Probably too young.

And if she asks--Zee Zee, did you read Listen to the Mustn'ts when you were growing up? I'm gonna tell her...

No. I was too old. But not anymore.